Eight
by blahosaurus
Summary: For Fai, love tastes like blood. /Maybe the first sign was when Kurogane told him that the number eight was lucky in his Japan./ Oneshot.


_Eight _

_S: 'For Fai, love tastes like blood' _

1.

The first person Fai had loved was his brother, back when he was Yuui and not Fai at all. He was convinced that they had loved each other even before they were born, that they had held hands for nine months and promised each other they would always be together. As he grew up, his brother became so important that the thought of losing him was a suggestion of self-harm. Suicide. They would bathe and sleep and play and learn and live together, apart only when forced. He could still remember his brother's open, laughing face as they chased each other through the snow, as clean and pure as what they waded through. He could remember flakes of golden memories, moments spent with his brother, being whole and happy and safe.

Remember the day when they had tried cooking with the maid, mixing their giggles with the sugar and pretending to be warriors with flour on their faces. They would dip their fingers in the dough when the cook wasn't looking and make faces at the raw taste of the mixture.

Remember the childish nightmares they shared and when they woke up they were clasped against each other, protective, promising. They would smile a little, knowing that even in their fears they were together. And it was ok, because together they could do anything.

Remember the intricate games of hide and seek in the castle where they found each other by simply sensing their other half.

But that love had not been enough. Separated, Fai had gone to hell, and his brother was locked in heaven and every day was spent trying to reach him. His fingers would grip at ledges and when the drops of blood would hit his lips he would scream his brother's name as his own abandoned one rung in his ears from above, sounds he could still hear when he slept, even as he tried to muffle the world with his pillow. He still had the scars on his fingertips from trying to claw himself out of the pit of madness.

But what he remembered the most was his brother in the end. A raw, wrinkled, bruised creature. Starved and abused and abandoned even by his own brother who had promised, _promised_, even as they held hands for nine months, that they would never let go. The figure of Fai, the real Fai, broken and twisted and _dead_ on the floor, tainted every other memory that preceded that one. He could still taste the metallic of red on his chapped lips as he stared at his brother, wishing he looked more at peace instead of appearing in pain and drawn-in and alone, even as still, as _still_ as he was. Wished, _wished_ the second he was gone that it was the other way around, that he had been a better person, that his brother had been a worse one.

And yet the price he had to pay for his brother's death had never been enough to bring him back.

2.

The second person Fai loved was his mother.

She had died at child birth, her blood pouring on her children's lips. It had been the first omen of their bad luck.

Late at night, when he had been old enough, Fai and his brother would take it in turns imagining how she would be like, if she were alive.

"She would be blonde, like us, so we could braid and play with her hair."

"And beautiful."

"Smile all the time."

"Everybody would love her for it."

"She would kiss us goodnight."

"And wish us good dreams."

"She would love sweets."

"And make us cookies on weekends."

"She would smell like the first day of spring."

"Her hands would always be warm."

"Except when we had a fever and had to place them on our foreheads to cool us down."

"She would love us."

"And never say we were made of misfortune."

3.

The third person Fai loved was his father.

Everybody said that The King had changed since his wife died, so Fai supposed that he hadn't always been so cruel. Every time he would lecture the twins on their existence, and blame them for the plague in the city, and the war in the towns, for the children who died and the people who suffered, the twins would convince themselves that he loved them anyway. They would go to bed, one always leaving their own and creeping to the other so that they could hear each other breathing, and whisper how fathers loved their children, _no matter what. _

But children are always naive when it comes to love, and far too innocent to understand how bitter it can be, and the King's love for his dead wife had turned extremely acidic indeed. Fai's love for his father had ended abruptly when his brother was taken away, and when Fai had landed between sinners. It had ended the same as all the rest, tasting red as suicide splattered across his worn skin and the scream that love had ripped out of him, the horror and the madness and the desperation to get out, _out_, had never ceased to murmur in his ears.

4.

The fourth person Fai loved was Ashura-ou.

It was the kind of clinging love that begun from the very first moment of meeting as a desperate, grateful thing. A love that was meant to last because it would always end with, _but he saved me..._

The only reason Fai hadn't been exactly happy with Ashura was because Fai didn't believe he _could_ be happy. He neither deserved or knew how to be content without his brother to wake up after nightmares, or to share secrets, or to tell fears. But Ashura was kind, and patient and Fai had felt safe with the ruler of the lands. When Ashura had asked for his name, and _Fai_ slipped out, he had not judged, had not asked why a moment later the boy had collapsed, clutching his head, _screaming_, and who knew such a loud noise could be so...hollow?

Ashura had never said Fai was unlucky. He had taught him to fight, taught him how to use his magic, how to live, to recuperate, to protect. Fai had felt like with Ashura there was hope. The King even believed that the real Fai would wake up some day to reclaim the name Yuui had been borrowing for a little while. He had learnt to smile again for him, even if the expressions were strained and fragile, it was the intention that counted.

But Ashura had simply been further proof that Fai was cursed. It started with the shouting. Ashura had never shouted before, but sometimes, for the smallest things (a dropped fork, a late encounter) the man would burst, and his voice would scratch the air in verbal violence and Fai could feel himself shrink into himself, feeling afraid of Ashura for the first time since that initial meeting. It was times like those that he had turned his head to the side, as he had done when his father shouted at him, hoping to see his brother there, only to see just air and space and emptiness; a Fai-shaped hole carved next to him.

Slowly the madness crept into Ashura like a demon possessing him. Every day he was himself a little less, losing pieces in dreams and in memories until there was nothing much left but a twisted thing that had once tried to make Fai happy.

On that last day, the day of the massacre, of the land with no people, Ashura's eyes had reminded him of the one's injured animals have, just before they are killed. He remembered them darting around, from puddle to puddle and from limb to limb and broken, mad words left his lips and that old horror had eaten Fai up again, consumed him, broken him. The fear of killing someone he loved,

again,

had woken up from its temporary slumber. He had seen the person he admired and loved and cared for, asking to be killed, just as his brother had been, but not in sanity and mercy but in madness, in a perverse attempt to free Fai of something he didn't need to be freed from. Desperation was something Fai was more than used to, and hide and seek was a game he had played since he was young, but the new life he was thrown at hadn't been easy after that. Not when he missed Ashura so much, sometimes, he feared he would wake him up simply through the longing of having him back, and sane, and safe.

He had hoped to travel from world to world alone, dragging and endangering no one with his curse of misfortune.

Two years and a half later, when Kurogane's swords pierced the man who had taken care of him for twenty years, and blood had dripped down his skin and under his nails once again, he had thought,

_I should have known. _

5.

Fai's fifth love had been the people and the land of Celes.

When he thought of them, he did not think _'white' _or _'cold'_. He thought '_warmth' _for the fires inside the houses, and the people's eyes and the way they loved it when he smiled. He thought _'sweet'_ for the cocoa and the pastries which suited the weather so well. He remembered how much the lights shone in the dark nights, reflected by the snow, making the towns glow as if they had a life of their own, an invitation extended to the shadows of the night. He remembered how the village children, and then teenagers, had never given up trying to get him to play in the snow that was always soft because of the constant storms, or invite him over for hot drinks and stories.

But the land had been stained by slaughter and the people had died because of him, his curse, the madness that seemed to hover around him, infecting that which he loved. He had seen the snow turn red, like poppies against the white, and seen the torn ligaments and smashed heads and open, scream-less mouths and vowed that never again, never again would he let this happen. He wouldn't love ever again.

But Fai had always been terrible with promises.

6.

The sixth person Fai loved was Syaoran.

He reminded Fai so much of his own brother it made him sick with guilt. Not in his mannerisms or physical appearance but in his _determination_. The way he protected Sakura despite anything and everything. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes despaired when she didn't remember him. Fai loved how Syaoran felt, the way Syaoran loved, the way he expressed himself and the way he did anything for the person he loved. He would watch Syaoran shopping with Sakura, or cooking, or walking, or talking. Just watch how his face moved, how he didn't notice he was being stared at because he was looking at Sakura, and what else could matter? He knew when Syaoran was remembering one of his many memories, the ones Sakura had lost and was never going to regain, and loved the small, sad smile that appeared, scarred and resigned and happy nonetheless because at least it had happened, once.

It made him think of his brother's own smile, his optimism, how he would try and take the fall for his own misdoings and the way he knew when to hold his hand when he needed it, or when to be silent and just listen, or when to fill the silence with his voice.

Syaoran was a person to be loved by everybody, was a person that loved with everything he had, that looked at you like he truly saw you, hugged like he was going to protect you now and for always, said things only when he truly meant them.

Syaoran was everything Fai was not.

And when Fai was drowning, looking at a Syaoran who did not care, and did not love, he had been willing to do anything to save him, save that love and those memories and that heart. But Fai had never saved anyone. Fai had never rescued, Fai had failed everybody he loved. Syaoran had lost himself and Fai hadn't fought as hard as he could have when fingers dug under his eyes and under his magic, and his own blood filled the cracks in his lips, because everything Fai suffered, he deserved.

And the love he felt for Syaoran ended up like the love he felt for everyone else. Useless.

7.

The seventh people he loved were Mokona and Sakura.

He had never felt a love so sweet as he did for them. All he wanted to do was protect them. He wanted Mokona to never regret the journey it had undertaken. He wanted Sakura to treasure the memories of the trip as she treasured the feathers they found. He wanted no scars on their soul and skin, and no tears on their cheeks.

He loved the way they were themselves, and happy for it. Fai couldn't be himself and be happy at the same time. He would pretend he was someone else. From the Republic of Hanshin, with the force of the Kudan inside him. From Piffle, and the skills to race. From Outo, and the knowledge of how to hunt. He would be someone from a world where being a twin did not mean tragedy. Would be a person who had not willed the death of his brother, a person who would not kill the king who had rescued him. He treasured Mokona and Sakura for their innocence and their honesty and so when Sakura had died, petals scattered across the wind of a strange Japan, and Mokona had started crying at night, he had not been surprised, because everything he loved spoiled in the end.

8.

The eighth person Fai loved was Kurogane. Maybe the first sign was when Kurogane had told him that the number eight was lucky in his Japan, eyes narrowed and tone reminiscent.

From the first time a nickname slipped across his tongue, he knew the ninja was dangerous. Not because his face had angered or because he had threatened him with death (when had death been a threat to him?). Not because his eyes were red and his voice made his chest thrum when he stood too close, but because Fai had never used a nickname before, and the fact that he couldn't stop using them with this one person was something to be weary of.

But Fai had ignored his own warning. He had let himself enjoy Kurogane's reactions, his expressions and habits. He began to like how the ninja was confident enough in who he was to let his emotions show in his face, in the way red would flash, mouth tilt, eyebrows lower, nose twitch. He was drawn by the man's _strength. _Everything Kurogane did seemed to be backed up by some sort of magnetic current that attracted and repelled, sometimes not even at his own volition.

Fai loved how he grinned in a way that was feral. Loved how he wielded the sword as if it were the most dangerous part of him. He even loved Kurogane's raw, harsh honesty. The way he would look at Fai as if he were burning all the outer layers to leave the broken, misused inside exposed. He loved how Kurogane followed his principles, and saved the people he loved even if just by staying and waiting and believing in them. He loved the way that Kurogane didn't have to run to catch up to Fai, but simply seemed to be one step forward all the time.

But the thing was, it wasn't just that. Fai loved even the most ridiculous things about Kurogane. Like his big hands, and dark skin. The way he didn't like sweets even though Fai loved them. The still, vigilant way he slept. How rude he was, how real, how sturdy. And even when kisses had been exchanged, just an outlet of stress and lust (as Kurogane said, sex had nothing to with love) and they had been bitter and biting and the fucking had been tender and rough, still, Fai found himself lingering for a little just before pushing himself away.

In the end, it was just that little bit too late when Fai realised that he loved everything about Kurogane, even the bits he hated.

So he ignored the way Kurogane's full name stung on his tongue, because that was the one thing that couldn't happen. Falling _in_ love would bring about the end of the world.

So he would not let Kurogane's determination, his eyes or the scar shaped like an F on his wrist deter his detachment. He promised himself never to forgive Kurogane for loving Fai enough to risk his hate.

So he would wait until his hands shook so much that he couldn't hold a cup of tea, until he was so pale he was translucent, until Kurogane's shouts of _I'll kill you before you starve yourself to death _was just white noise until he drank. And when Kurogane's blood was in his mouth, tasting so incredibly sweet and delicious he couldn't believe it belonged to him, he would close his eyes and refuse to look at the red, red, staring eyes that burned holes.

But every promise behind Fai's teeth was meant to be broken.

One of those things Fai hated to love about Kurogane is how somehow he always seemed to be right. And in the end, when one too many sacrifices had been made to be ignored, he had to admit that being alive was worth it. That the fact that so many people were dead because of him didn't mean he had to join them because despite all his sins, if there were people who could love him, then so should he.

So when Kurogane had given yet another piece of himself for Fai, he had though _enough. I will be selfish for no longer._

And the face Kurogane made when Fai punched him, the grin and the challenge and the promise in the ninja's eyes after he said '_this is payback, Kuro-sama'_ was carved into his mind as one of the best moments of his life.

And so when the kisses turned sweeter, and the sex slower, and love still tasted like blood from Kurogane's F-shaped scar, Fai didn't mind, as long as he was alive.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A/N

Recently started and finished reading Tsubasa Chronicles and so this is my first oneshot in the fandom. A few more ideas brewing in my head...but please tell me what you think on this one!

Llalalala


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